


overnight sensation

by uneventfulhouses



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Strangers to Lovers, this is some really soft smut i don't remember writing.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21817402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uneventfulhouses/pseuds/uneventfulhouses
Summary: And they kiss, kiss for a long time, with exploratory hands and mouths, marking each other’s necks with passion—not feral or urgent—with contentedness, exhaustion, refusing to give into the bone-weariness of talking on the couch until five in the morning.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 12
Kudos: 168
Collections: The Ghosts Are Watching





	overnight sensation

**Author's Note:**

> this was the first thing i ever wrote for this fandom and i found it sitting unpublished. what a shame!!! this is a work of fiction, please enjoy, don't share, etc, etc. anyway, here's wonderwall.

It’s almost one in the morning as people begin leaving the bonfire; Ryan spies an unfamiliar face. It belongs to a taller guy, long limbs and terrible posture, but a kind face—a classic, timeless kind of face with a heart shaped structure. He laughs at something his companion says and Ryan can spot the indent of a dimple in his cheek, shadowed by his beard. Ryan can’t tell what’s got him so compelled, but when the tall guy’s companion leaves him alone, Ryan takes a chance to strike up a conversation.

“Haven’t seen you before,” Ryan says, by way of greeting. He’s got alcohol buzzing through his veins and standing this close to the fire makes him too warm for the hoodie he’s wearing.

The tall guy looks down at him, smiling friendly-like. Ryan likes the shape of his eyes, he decides.

“Oh, yeah—invited last minute by a gal named Sara?” he says. Ryan knows Sara—from work of course, and anyone Sara brings along turns out to be quite alright in Ryan’s book.

“Sara’s great. New then?”

“From Chicago, yeah. I’m Shane.”

“Ryan,” he greets, holding out his hand. Shane takes it, and maybe the handshake lingers for a moment too long, but it propels a confidence in Ryan to say, “There’s a bar down the street—doesn’t close for an hour or so.”

“Mm.” Shane looks down at his watch—"I think I’ve had enough,” he admits. “How about a walk instead?”

:::

There’s something to be said for words. They share a myriad, jumping topics, piling information into their one on one conversation. Ryan is a sponge—soaking all of Shane’s words, listening intently. It’s because it’s late at night, the fact that it’s the wee hours of the morning, where secrets spill, unintentionally, divulging the kind of information that doesn’t seem right under the scrutiny of daylight.

:::

There was never the intention of taking someone home, though. Ryan doesn’t usually set out to get laid. He’s much more of a serial monogamist—with women no less, and yet, they walk miles back to Ryan’s apartment, Shane seemingly comfortable with Ryan to allow himself to be invited home by a stranger. They don’t know each other, and yet, simultaneously, they do. It’s thrilling, this new revelation of meeting someone and knowing them, the deepest parts of them before the sun rises.

Inside, the conversation softens, becomes muted. On Ryan’s couch, they drink a couple more beers, laugh quietly at lame jokes and they taunt each other like there’s years of acquaintance behind them. Ryan feels warm in his skin, warm in his heart, his belly—warm when he looks at Shane’s eyes and his cheeks, eyes flitting down to his mouth, wet from either his drink or his tongue licking every so often. It’s become a distraction. Ryan’s tired, eyes blinking too many times—bleary.

Shane lifts his glasses to rub his eyes, laughing, saying ridiculous stuff like, “I should go.”

Shaking his head, Ryan reaches out, sets his hand on Shane’s thigh, just above his knee. “Should stay,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, okay,” Shane concedes.

:::

Ryan’s bedroom is a lived-in kind of mess. There are clothes and shoes strewn about, but his bed is made. Shane sits on the edge, and Ryan follows him. Standing between the space between Shane’s knees, Ryan lifts Shane’s glasses, leans down, where their noses brush and Ryan can feel Shane’s warm breath over his lips. Shane’s hands command Ryan’s hips, a gentle touch, but his hands are big, fingertips slipping underneath the soft cotton of Ryan’s shirt just to touch above the waistline of Ryan’s jeans. Shane pulls Ryan close.

The taste of Shane’s mouth is the beer they were drinking, and something distinctly foreign, yet so familiar. The warmth Ryan feels blossoms into heat as they kiss, soft touches of their lips until Ryan runs his fingers through Shane’s hair, a wordless begging for more. And more it is, when Shane’s tongue is licking into Ryan’s mouth, coaxing gentle noises from him, a stark contrast to the silence of his bedroom. Ryan leans in with his whole body, kneeling on the bed, lowering himself onto Shane’s lap.

And they kiss, kiss for a long time, with exploratory hands and mouths, marking each other’s necks with passion—not feral or urgent—with contentedness, exhaustion, refusing to give into the bone-weariness of talking on the couch until five in the morning.

Underneath him, Ryan can feel Shane’s hard in his pants, and Ryan fares no better. With the rhythm of their kissing, Ryan compliments it with the cant of his hips, rewarded with the unapologetic hiss of his name dripping from Shane’s lips. Shane’s hands travel—God, do they; up the expanse of Ryan’s back, over the small of his back, and lower, directing, adjusting, pulling and pushing Ryan’s hips until Ryan can’t kiss Shane anymore because it feels so good to be this close.

It’s unhurried, this momentary eternity. But it ends, kisses softening into nothing, until they’re sat there, heat rushing through Ryan still, hard still, but making no moves to do anything about it.

“Sleep?” Ryan asks, and Shane nods. Ryan climbs off Shane, sitting next to him on edge of the bed.

They kick off their shoes, ditch their socks and shirts and jeans. Near naked, they climb into bed. Ryan waits for Shane to situate—onto his back finally—and then tucks himself where he deems fit. Head on Shane’s shoulder, Ryan’s arm tossed over his belly, they sink into Ryan’s mattress.

“Goodnight, Ryan,” Shane whispers. Ryan replies with a kiss to Shane’s chest.

:::

Late morning light filters in grey. The rain is what wakes Ryan; the soft pitter-patter taps against his window. He’s pressed against Shane’s back, sticky with sweat, too warm to care. Pulling up the covers seems to wake Shane, and Shane turns just slightly.

“Ryan?” he asks, voice sleep soft.

“Yeah,” Ryan replies, just a whisper.

Turning over, Shane’s still in Ryan’s grasp. Ryan gives him time—Shane uses those moments to look over Ryan’s face, blink his eyes closed a few times before shuffling in close.

“Okay?” he asks. Ryan doesn’t know what the question specifically pertains to, but he nods, because he is okay, here, with Shane, and anything Shane is asking for permission, Ryan grants.

Shane’s mouth is warm, soft, but insistent. Ryan uses all the strength he can muster to get Shane lying on his back, nestling between Shane’s thighs like he belongs there. This time, there’s no cause for pause, just picks back up where they left off, morning breath be damned.

The drag of Ryan’s hips makes Shane shudder deliciously. Ryan doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on Shane’s neck, his collar, the sweet dip of his throat. He tastes like sweat and skin and Ryan sucks a mark there, pressing his hips down—Shane’s hard, and there’s wetness between the two of their bodies, and Ryan just wants so much all at once. Instead, Ryan finds Shane’s hands, pins them to the bed and sets off a steady, deliberate rhythm that makes Shane toss his head back against Ryan’s pillows, coaxes a gorgeous whisper of his name from Shane’s mouth again.

“Please,” Shane begs, and Ryan doesn’t know what he wants, but Ryan wants the same thing. They rut against each other, mouths press hot—and this time it’s urgent, there’s fervor and veracity, a treacherous need to touch and take and give. Ryan’s hips stutter for a second, just a beat off rhythm, and Shane wrestles a hand free to dip underneath the blankets, pressed into the small of Ryan’s back, dipping lower underneath the elastic of Ryan’s boxer briefs to grab, pulling Ryan hard against him. Ryan finds the crook of Shane’s neck, breathing hard—

“Fuck— _Shane_ ,” Ryan huffs, and Shane’s auxiliary hand finds its way into Ryan’s hair, pulling just enough—

Shane’s body trembles underneath him, breathing Ryan’s name. It’s just enough for Ryan to follow, spilling into his underwear, shaking on top of Shane has he holds Ryan, finding their mouths pressed together again, for a long while, soothing the tremors of their orgasms.

When the discomfort settles in, Ryan moves, rolling off of Shane’s body and out from the warmth of the blankets—the secure hold of Shane’s arms.

In the bathroom, Ryan shucks off his underwear, kicking them away. He grabs two wash cloths from under the sink, running them both under warm water. He cleans himself, discarding one of the cloths with his soiled underwear, and returns to bed. Shane’s eyes are closed, and his breathing seems even, but when Ryan approaches the bed, Shane looks at him with gentle, curious eyes. Moving the blankets, Shane pushes down his boxer briefs to his thighs, and Ryan takes them the rest of the way off, dropping them onto the floor. Ryan busies himself with cleaning him, wiping over Shane’s abdomen and his spent cock, before dropping the towel to the floor, too. Shane covers himself with the blankets, and Ryan climbs back into bed. This time, Shane drapes himself along the length of Ryan’s spine.

“Anywhere you gotta be?” Ryan askes, punctuating his question with a yawn.

“No,” Shane answers, pressing his lips to the nape of Ryan’s neck.

Twining their fingers together, Ryan closes his eyes, and to the sound of Shane’s breathing and the rain pattering against his window, he falls back into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://businessbabybergara.tumblr.com/) if you wanna chat!


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